DISCLAIMER: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and its characters are the propert of James Cameron and Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got the image of Sarah touching Cameron on the stomach and couldn’t get it out of my head so I decided to write some smut about it.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

There are moments when Sarah looks at or touches Cameron and she forgets that Cameron's not human.

Like when she touched her stomach in the warehouse.

The fire had raced up Sarah's arm making her fingers twitch. If not for the little weasel tied to the chair, she had an urge to put those fingers to work finding other flesh-like parts of Cameron to touch. The images had flashed before her eyes  sweating bodies, flesh sliding against flesh, fingers and tongues reaching and grasping. Briefly, she wondered what those slender fingers would feel like touching her inside. Clamping down on the sensations running through her body, the hot molten fire that filled her veins, she wondered where this had come from, when these feelings had arrived.

Her nails dug into her hands releasing the fire from her blood, but it wasn't enough. The satisfying snap of flesh and bone meeting was cathartic, so she did it again and again and again.

With her unbridled rage temporarily pushed down to a slow pulse, she passed the dirty job of breaking weasel-boy to Cameron and walked out without looking back.

Cameron watched Sarah leave tilting her head to the side as if doing so would help her understand the complicated woman. One minute she was touching Cameron gently, almost protectively, the next Cameron was trying to get her to see the logic in letting the man live. Watching her over the past few weeks, Cameron had learned that Sarah was compassionate to a fault and for that reason alone, this sudden violent behavior confused her even more.

For the first time Cameron noticed weasel-boy attempting to slink out of the room unnoticed. Cameron grabbed him by the belt loop of his jeans lifting him effortlessly before turning him to look into glowing blue eyes.

"We're not done yet," Cameron's nose twitched at the pungent smell and looked down at the growing and darkening stain on the man's grimy pants. She dropped him to the floor with a thud, shaking her head disdainfully, "Humans."

If she didn't know Cameron didn't sleep and walked the floor all night, she would have missed the soft shuffle of feet on the wood floor. Anyone else would have missed the constant movement, but Sarah found herself tuned into Cameron's presence. For her, the cyborg's silent existence had become like crack for her. Her need for a fix - a visual, a sound, even the smallest gesture from Cameron - had come to surround her and live in her psyche like a living entity. Slowly over time simply knowing and hearing Cameron somewhere nearby had served as a strange lullaby easing her fears so sleep came easy. After years of protecting John, sleep had become a luxury she didn't allow herself to indulge in, until now, until Cameron. Tonight, though, peace wouldn't come and neither would sleep.

Sarah had been trying for the last four hours to get some sleep. She could have and would have gladly liked to blame her surreal lifeline to Cameron, but the brushing of her sore hand against the sheets was a reminder of why she felt so keyed up. The vivid and brutal re-enactment of beating that poor guy replayed through her brain on a persistent and taunting loop. She had lost control. After years and years of telling John to stay in control, to focus, she was the one who snapped.

Her heart told her that her response was only human. Isn't that what she told Cameron earlier that day? That humans are illogical? What's logical about beating a man because she is losing control of her feelings for a machine and that she was terrified of losing her son? What's logical about feeling this way about Cameron? Nothing. It was all completely illogical and tragically human, and even though Sarah knew this, she felt a rage inside herself that pushed out all of her humanity and for a brief moment she took it out on another human being.

Unlike the shuffle of feet coming closer to her door, the answers to why wouldn't come.

Glancing up, she saw Cameron dressed in only boxers and a black tank top leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed casually. The image actually made Sarah smile. Little by little, there were small differences in Cameron's everyday behavior that made her less conspicuous, more human, and as Sarah was coming to realize, more of a woman.

That last thought got stuck on a repeating track in Sarah's head as she watched Cameron smoothly push away from the door and walk closer to the bed, her hips swaying more than usual. She stopped at the edge of the bed, her knees brushing the inside of Sarah's legs. Cameron had been running scenarios through her system trying to process the reason behind Sarah's earlier meltdown. Every scene of interaction she'd had with Sarah played through her memory banks until only one logical explanation was possible.

"I've been watching you."

"You watch everything," the condescending tone was lost on Cameron. Sarah spread her legs further and leaned back, trying to get distance and avoid contact. Cameron took it as an invitation and stepped closer, eventually leaning over and bracing herself on one hand, until Sarah was flat on her back.

"Yes, I do, but today, that wasn't you. That wasn't the Sarah Connor John told us about."

"Well, John doesn't know everything about me."

Thinking about her son made a wave of guilt flood over her and the tears sprung to her eyes before she could stop them. After all of the lessons she's tried to teach him, what would he think of her if he knew about her beating that man? She tried to slide back to get away from Cameron and to clear her head. The last thing she needed was a terminator seeing her break down. Some soldier, the same words she had spoken to John's father so many years ago came back to her.

A cool hand gently pushed Sarah down on the bed with just enough pressure to get her attention. Cameron tenderly brushed away a stray tear from Sarah's cheek. The gesture wasn't lost on Sarah and a whole new image had to be incorporated into the total picture of this ever evolving woman-machine .

"This is the famous Sarah Connor," Cameron traced her fingers down Sarah's cheek emphasizing each of her words, "she's tender and fierce, gentle and strong, passionate and loving. She's the ultimate warrior." Each word was emphasized with a soft stroking of fingers along her jaw, eventually disappearing into dark tresses at the base of Sarah's neck. The motion was starting to shortcurcuit Sarah's common sense. She tried to reel back in her emotions, placing her hand over Cameron's wrist to still the incessant motion, and willed her lungs to breath.

Then it happened, Cameron climbed on the bed, allowing a bare thigh to caress the sensitive skin between Sarah's legs. With a shudder, Sarah let out the breath she had been holding. Cameron's hand edged lower as the sensors on her skin picked up perspiration, an increased heart rate, and erratic breathing. Her fingers slipped underneath the band of Sarah's shorts, and she smiled to herself when it registered that Sarah was quickly becoming aroused, and that her earlier conclusions had been accurate.

Hearing Sarah moan in acceptance, Cameron felt a shift take place as her fingers slipped effortlessly through and around slick skin. A strange sensation rippled through Cameron's frame. She understood the biology of what was happening, understood how humans react to touch, but the emotion took her by surprise. She looked up into Sarah's green eyes to see the walls tumbling down leaving her defenseless. A lone tear coming from a different source than pain and regret slid down Sarah's cheek.

Cameron leaned down, barely brushing her lips against Sarah's, picking up and filing away each individual moan, gasp, and whimper for recall later. Sarah arched her back as one, two, then three fingers pushed firmly and gently into her. Cameron waited unmoving inside of Sarah until the momentary sensation of being filled abated. Sarah looked at her with desire, confusion, and a touch of fear before the slow rocking of hips urged Cameron on. A small smile tugged at the corner of Cameron's mouth.